the hard season
will
split you wild.
do not worry.
you will bleed water.
do not worry.
this is grief.
your smile will fall out and down your skin
and
there will be some scorching.
but do not worry.
keep speaking the years from their hiding places.
keep coughing up smoke from all the deaths you have died.
keep the rage tender.
because the soft season will come
it will come
loud
ready
gulping
both hands in your heart
up all night
up all of the nights
to drink all damage into love.
-Nayirrah Waheed